


Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by deletetheadjectives



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Superyacht!Villaneve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25824448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deletetheadjectives/pseuds/deletetheadjectives
Summary: “She’s a dick.”“She’s a yacht chef, what else is new babe?”Or,Eve is the chief stewardess of The Calypso, one of the largest yachts sailing the Mediterranean, and Villanelle is the annoying, rude, unsociable and definitely-not-attractive chef. What happens below deck stays below deck.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 43
Kudos: 171





	1. Welcome Aboard

A new charter season meant new beginnings. A new boat, new crew, new captain—new possibilities.

Not everyone that works in the yachting industry may like the ‘clean slate’ model, but it generally worked. Having crew live and operate in such close quarters for weeks on end with no real escape meant drama was inevitable. Whether it involved the interior staff—stewardesses were known to wage war between one another at some point during the season—or the exterior staff, running a tight ship was tougher than it looked.

Luckily for Eve Park, this season’s crew had some familiar faces.

While she was wielding her power as chief stewardess for her third season, her best friend Elena was set to serve as second stewardess. Plus, Elena’s new boyfriend Kenny was serving as bosun.

So, the odds were stacked in their favor for it to be smooth sailing for the next few months, barring any major issues with the other staff. From the information she had received so far, her third stewardess was actually Kenny’s older sister, Geraldine, while the two deck hands working under Kenny had a good amount of experience on paper.

The only undealt card was the chef.

Her email correspondences with Captain Vasiliev noted that the original chef had backed out last minute and a replacement was being arranged. This development made Eve nervous, as a good working relationship between the chef and chief stewardess was essential for a successful season.

Most chefs in Eve’s past charters were always talented but also tended to be hotheaded, stubborn and sometimes even lazy, and more often than not they were male. That being said, she never had any bad experiences with any of them. It was her tenth year in the industry and she was proud to have the overall reputation of ‘easy to work with.’

Prior to starting on her first yacht all those years ago, where she toiled away down in the laundry room, Eve actually had a respectable desk job with MI5. And she was _married._

Both of those elements ultimately drove Eve to the sea—first, her job of basically being a research lackey in a division that never earned her a promotion or a raise; and second, her husband Niko.

Nice, simple Niko. He was much more exciting now that he was her ex-husband, being that when she was back in London between charter seasons they could have a friendly pint without having to go home and sleep shoulder to shoulder in a bed that saw such a lack of sexual activity it rivaled the grandparent’s bed from Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory. 

She was happier now, and she suspected Niko was as well since he had begun dating another teacher at his school, Gemma. Eve hadn’t been in any sort of serious relationship since Niko, but that was of her own volition.

Heading the staff of a superyacht in the Mediterranean took up enough of her attention anyway.

* * *

Captain Vasiliev was waiting for her on the docks as she pulled her luggage behind her and pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. He was wearing a white polo tucked into a pair of black slacks. 

“Captain,” she greeted, sticking her hand out. “Eve Park. Nice to meet you.”

The captain smiled as he reached out to shake her hand happily.

“Please, call me Konstantin when we’re off charter. It is nice to meet you, Eve.”

He had a deep Russian accent that may come off a bit intimidating at first, but Eve could already tell his overall demeanor seemed kind and patient. 

He grabbed the handle of her suitcase and started walking towards the boat, Eve following closely behind. He was navigating towards the last slip in the row, and it must have been the largest yacht Eve had seen or worked on yet. It had three sun decks, one of which Eve could see was equipped with a hot tub.

Konstantin stopped in front of it and looked back at Eve proudly.

“The Calypso. 161 feet, newly renovated. She’s a beauty.”

“You can say that again,” Eve replied, looking up at the yacht while shielding her eyes from the sun.

“You’re the first to arrive, other than the bosun Kenny. I will show you around.”

The yacht was beautiful, inside and out. It boasted six bedrooms to accommodate up to twelve guests, a large dining room and living room and several outdoor spaces for the guests. The décor was a lot more modern than most superyachts, thanks to its recent renovation.

The staff living quarters weren’t quite as spacious, featuring bunk rooms and a small dining area. The galley, however, was wide and would most likely please any yacht chef.

The more Konstantin showed her, the more excited Eve was to get started.

Eventually, they ended up on the stern where they found Kenny hosing off the bottom deck.

Although Eve hadn’t actually met him yet, Elena had talked her ear off about him. They met almost six months ago between charter seasons in Greece and hit it off immediately. Whereas Elena was known to be a bit more…wild, she described Kenny as shy and quiet, but also smart and funny.

Given that information, Eve had a hard time imagining him as a bosun—a position that involved barking orders at the deck crew.

“Kenny! Come, meet our chief stew,” Konstantin called.

Kenny quickly turned to make his way to them, but got tangled in the hose he had just switched off and almost face planted on the deck.

“Woah there,” she reached out a hand to steady him but he recovered quickly and stood before them like nothing happened.

“I’m Kenny. You must be Eve,” he said, shaking her hand.

He was wearing khaki shorts and a t-shirt with the boat's name across the front pocket.

“Elena, um….she’s told me a lot about you,” he added, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“Likewise,” Eve smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah. Looking forward to working with you.”

He awkwardly made his way back to the hose as Konstantin led her back down to the staff quarters, showing her the room she’d been assigned.

While she loved her job, she hated sleeping in such cramped spaces. The chief stew was typically roomed with the chef, but it wasn’t uncommon for staff to switch rooms as they pleased, so Eve was hoping to bunk with Elena eventually since Kenny was on a separate floor with the deck hands.

Konstantin headed back upstairs to the bridge while Eve worked to unpack what she could into the three measly drawers she was afforded.

About half an hour later, she heard footsteps bounding down the stairs and Elena quite literally hopped into her room.

“Eve!” she exclaimed, immediately pulling the woman into a hug.

“Ugh, it’s so good to see you.”

It had been a few months since they had last seen each other, but they quickly caught up with one another as Eve helped her unpack.

They were interrupted not much later by a younger man who leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb of Elena’s room, smirking at them.  
  


“I thought I heard some ladies’ voices,” he said in a posh accent, raking a hand through his brown hair.

Eve and Elena looked at each other, the latter woman quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” Elena replied.

“I’m Hugo. Deck hand. Aspiring bosun.”

“Thanks for the CV, mate,” Elena joked. “I’m Elena, second stew.”

“Eve. Chief stew,” Eve introduced herself.

“I know you’re bunking below us, but feel free to come up and visit us anytime,” Hugo offered, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. Eve suspected trouble already.

“Well yeah, I’ll be up to visit my _boyfriend_ Kenny," Elena clarified for him.

“You don’t say,” Hugo responded, just a little put out. He turned to Eve, raising his eyebrows.

“Absolutely not,” she said easily, turning back to Elena’s suitcase.

“Bollocks,” she heard him mutter as he disappeared back to his own quarters.

“Laters,” Elena called after him, before turning back to Eve and rolling her eyes.

Soon enough the rest of the staff slowly began to show up—there was Greg, the other deck hand, and Geraldine, the sad and slightly mousy third stew. Even Kenny seemed to be awkward around his own sister, but Eve guessed that had more to do with the significant age gap between them.

They were due to have a staff meeting in about an hour, but the chef was still nowhere to be found.

The meeting covered the general rules while on board, and they were pretty consistent across all boats: no drinking while on charter, treat colleagues and superiors with respect and perhaps most importantly, never go beyond being friendly with guests.

Eve has seen all types of breaking of the rules during her decade in the industry, from staffers taking shots in secret to get through their shifts to staff actively fucking the guests. It was never fun to see a staff member booted from a charter, especially because it put undue stress on the remaining members, but sometimes it was simply necessary.

It wasn’t uncommon for charter guests to hit on the stewardesses, who were expected to just grin and bear it—easier said than done considering a lot of charter guests were disgusting and filthy rich old men, who hit on them with their wives and daughters sometimes in the same room.

“As you may have noticed, chef hasn’t arrived just yet, but she’s due to come in early tomorrow morning before the guests arrive. Eve, you and I will meet with her then and we can go over the preference sheets,” Konstantin addressed the group.

Eve met Elena’s gave across the table. It was highly unusual for the chef to be able to show up late on the first day, and even stranger for them to show up the next day. But Eve just chalked it up to the fact that she was filling in last minute for someone and they were working with her schedule.

“Eve, you and I can go over provisions now so we can get our order in before tomorrow,” Konstantin continued, before dismissing the others.

For the next hour, Eve and Konstantin went through the guests’ food and beverage preferences before putting together a list of items to stock up for the charter.

“So…this chef. She’s kind of swooping in to save the day?” Eve asked carefully, trying to get a read on the situation.

“Yes, the situation was certainly dire,” Konstantin said, laughing at his own reply as if there was a joke in there somewhere that Eve didn’t know about. Perhaps there was.

“Have you had her on board before?”

“I have,” he said mysteriously, before shuffling his papers together and standing to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eve. Have a good first night’s rest.”

“You too, captain,” she smiled as he walked off.

_What was that about?_

* * *

Eve was readying her bunk for bed, ignoring the empty top bunk that would soon house the chef. Elena slipped into her room just as she was getting under the covers.

“Totes weird about the chef right?” Elena began with.

Eve propped herself up on her elbows. “Totally. And Konstantin was even more secretive when I asked him if he had worked with her before—which he has. But he wouldn't spill any more than that.”

Elena stepped out of the room to look up and down the hallway before closing Eve’s door behind her.

“So, you know how this new chef was coming to fill in for the chef who mysteriously decided not to work this season?"

Eve nodded suspiciously.

"Well, I heard that the problem wasn’t so much with the original chef, but with the _new_ chef,” she whispered to Eve.

“Huh?”

“Apparently the chef coming tomorrow got herself kicked off her former boat. I was texting with my friend who was second stew, but she couldn’t say much more than that.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. And she said she’s a bit of an asshole.”

“Great,” Eve sighed, dropping from her elbows to collapse on the bed fully.

Elena rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“Hey, maybe she just has it wrong.”

All Eve wanted was a smooth charter season. That’s it. Was that too much to ask for?

“God, I hope so.”


	2. Flip the Boat, Don’t Rock It

Eve tosses and turns during the first night, which she often does on a new boat. It’s one part excitement, the other part nerves.

She loves her job, and she does it well, but there is truly no preparing for what can happen during a charter. ‘Expect the unexpected’ is a fair motto when working in yachting.

When Eve arrived on her first ever boat ten years ago, she was as green as they come. She was almost thirty at the time but most of the crew still treated her like a child when it came to showing her the ropes—which was fair, as Eve hadn’t been on many boats in her lifetime, let alone worked on one.

But she remained committed, rose through the ranks and when she was finally named chief stew, it actually felt like an accomplishment. She hadn’t felt accomplished in many aspects of her life before then.

She met Elena at some point during her second year, and they served on the same crew from time to time. Where Eve could be sometimes serious and strict, Elena was whimsy and wit. They struck a balance that was often needed in the crew—and the tips they received showed it.

At the end of each charter, it’s routine to sit down together as a crew with the captain to go over how everything went. But more importantly, that’s when they find out how much of a tip the guests left them.

The tip is split evenly amongst the crew, which means _everyone_ is expected to pull their weight, and Eve has seen a tip amount make or break an entire charter season. Tempers tend to flare when someone believes another crew member cost them their well-earned money by slacking off.

But Eve has never been one to receive such blame. She is nothing but professional and is usually a favorite of guests, which means she is the reason the tip is as high as it is. She listens to the guests and gets to know them in a way that allows her to provide them with what they want before they even know they want it.

Catering to others is just something she happens to be good at, so why not get paid well for it? 

* * *

It was almost ritual now that Eve would wake up extra early on the first morning of the charter season and have her coffee on the sun deck while the sun rose. Usually no one was awake yet to disturb her, other than the deck hand on night shift, but they typically hung around in the bridge.

She didn’t have the most fantastic view, since they were still in the marina and tied to a dock, but that almost made it better—she was able to look out at the sea and forward to a new season of possibilities and opportunities.

The comfortable morning silence this time, however, was broken abruptly by a string of curses coming from the docks.

Eve stood and made her way to the edge of the deck, peering over to look at whoever was out so early.

What she saw was a little shocking.

There stood a young blonde woman, clad in a pair of very short denim shorts and a teal blouse tucked into the front of them, as well as pair of black boots. Behind her was one of the largest suitcases Eve had ever seen, and it seemed one of the wheels had gotten snagged between the slats of the wooden dock.

Eve couldn’t see her face properly from up on the deck, but she could tell from her overall demeanor that she was not pleased. Another flurry of curses flew from her mouth, some in a language she didn’t recognize, and Eve moved to make her way downstairs to help her out before she woke up the whole marina.

She stopped in the galley to wash out her coffee mug in the sink and by the time she stepped out onto the starboard side of the boat to make her way down to the docks, the woman was gone. All that was left was a tiny suitcase wheel stuck between the wood.

Eve squinted a bit, as if doing so would make her reappear, but she seemed to really have vanished in the span of five minutes.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the walkie talkie attached to her hip crackled to life.

“Eve, Eve—Konstantin.”

She detached it and replied, “Go for Eve.”

“Meet me in the galley. Chef is here.”

“On my way.”

By the time she made it back to the galley, Eve found out where the woman went.

“Eve, this is Villanelle, our chef,” Konstantin gestured to the woman that had been standing on the dock less than ten minutes ago. “Villanelle, this is Eve, our chief stew.”

Seeing the woman up close, Eve quickly came to the conclusion that she was beautiful; almost otherworldly. Cat-like eyes, full lips, tanned skin—and she was looking at Eve with the world’s most discernible grimace.

“Nice to meet you,” Eve held out her hand.

Villanelle just started at the limb, back up to Eve’s eyes, and then back to her hand.

“This is what I’m working with?” Villanelle asked, turning back to Konstantin and completely ignoring Eve’s gesture.

Eve snatched back her hand, outrage simmering within her.

Villanelle turned back to Eve once more and looked her up and down.

“She’s…frumpy.”

“Hey!” Eve protested.

“ _Villanelle,”_ Konstantin seethed, almost looking embarrassed.

Admittedly, Eve wasn’t looking her best. It was still early and there were no guests on the boat, so she was in the pair of sweats and t-shirt she slept in. Not that she’d call herself _frumpy_ , though.

Okay, maybe a bit disheveled.

“I look forward to working with you, Villanelle,” Eve lied through her teeth, adding a mumbled, “Ass.”

Villanelle fixed her with a stare that she could have sworn lasted ages. It was like she was just now looking at her properly—her eyes were flitting from place to place, from Eve’s face to her hair, before making full on eye contact. Eve was afraid to breathe.

So maybe her last comment hadn’t been so quiet.

“Okay, Villanelle, go put your things away and start cleaning the kitchen,” Konstantin awkwardly interrupted the tense staring contest. “Guests arrive at one o’clock.”

He turned and headed back to the bridge.

Villanelle continued to stare, a slight smirk appearing at the corner of her lips. Finally, she broke away and was heading towards the stairs to the crew quarters.

Eve walked over to the sink once she was gone, grasping the sides of it and taking a breath before combing her finger through her hair and reaching for the elastic on her wrist to tie it up.

She turned around and leant her back against the sink, and almost yelped when she saw Villanelle had come back and was standing in the galley doorway, watching her silently.

“Wear it down.”

And then she was gone again.

* * *

Eve was sitting cross-legged on Elena’s bunk as the girl got ready for the day.

“Maybe she’s just having an off day,” Elena said, smoothing down her shirt. “I mean, you said you first saw her when she got her luggage stuck in the dock. Not the best start to the morning.”

They were dressed in their formal uniform as was custom when welcoming the guests on board for the first day. It consisted of a short-sleeved epaulet blouse tucked into a knee-length black skirt.

“She’s a dick,” Eve said plainly, picking at a thread on her own skirt.

“She’s a yacht chef, what else is new babe?”

“I don’t know, she just doesn’t seem like an easy person to work with,” Eve sighed. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“You only met her for like five seconds, give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s on the rag.”

Eve laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

“I guess I’ll give her some time to warm up before I make my decision, which once made _cannot_ be reversed,” Eve said, hopping off Elena’s bunk. “Now let’s go flip this boat.”

“Ugh, this is the worst part,” Elena groaned.

Before each charter, it was the staff’s job to clean the boat from top to bottom and make it presentable for the next guests. Not exactly the most fun part of the job, but a necessary evil.

The duo met Geraldine in the guest living quarters and together they started with the bedrooms—changing the sheets, making the beds, vacuuming, fluffing the pillows, folding the first sheet of toilet paper into a special design. They then wiped down the interior dining room table, and took care of the living room before moving out onto the decks.

They passed Villanelle in the galley and she was busy putting food away and getting her station prepared, AirPods in her ears and ignoring everyone around her.

She had changed from her shorts and blouse into her own uniform, and she was somehow able to make the plain black pants and short-sleeve white chef coat look stylish.

“Okay, she’s _hot_ ,” Elena whispered once they were outside. “Sexy hot.”

Geraldine side eyed them as she wiped down the outdoor table, but said nothing.

“Doesn’t excuse her being an asshole,” Eve said.

“I don’t know, it kind of does.”

Eve rolled her eyes and helped Elena put the pads on the deck chairs and wipe the salty grime from them.

“Eve, Eve—Konstantin,” her walkie sputtered from her hip.

“Go for Eve.”

“Meet me in the bridge to go over the preference sheets with Villanelle.”

“On my way up.”

She tossed her rag to Elena and went to head back inside when her walkie crackled once again.

“Eve, please grab Villanelle on your way. She is not answering her radio.”

“Will do, cap.”

The woman sighed and made her way to the galley, where she found Villanelle leaning on the counter and scrolling through something on her phone, AirPods still securely in her ears and walkie forgotten on the counter.

“Villanelle,” she called.

The girl continued texting, not even sensing Eve’s presence.

“Hey!” Eve shouted.

Villanelle looked up lazily, pulling the pods from her ears and placing them back in their case.

“Hello Eve, how can I help you,” she said sarcastically.

“Captain wants to see us on the bridge,” Eve told her, then pointed to the walkie. “You need to have that with you at all times, and you need to answer when captain calls for you.”

Eve was—kind of excitedly—anticipating seeing Konstantin chew Villanelle out for not answering her walkie. That was considered a cardinal sin among crew members and the biggest pet peeve for captains.

“Yes, I know, this isn’t my first rodeo,” Villanelle snarked, swiping the walkie from the counter and clipping it to her hip. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Eve snipped right back.

Once they got to the bridge, Eve was shocked when Konstantin didn’t even appear agitated with Villanelle, or mention the incident at all. At the very least it would result in a warning from the captain.

“Hello ladies, thank you for joining me,” he greeted as they sat down together at the small table, Kenny joining them as well. “So, let’s go over our first guests of the season. There are only two couples on this charter, so they should not be too difficult.”

He handed them each a paper with details on the four guests—their likes, dislikes, what they wanted to eat, drink, what they expected from their trip, et cetera. Charters typically only lasted three days, but even then the preference sheets could get long and complicated, depending on the guest.

“Now Villanelle, we have two vegetarians listed on here, so _please respect that_ ,” he directed at the girl, who scowled in response.

“So what am I to make them for three days? Salads?” she huffed.

“They have other preferences listed on their sheet, Villanelle, that is what it is for,” Konstantin said.

He turns to Kenny.

“These guys want all the toys in the water, so make that happen,” he said.

The boat offered a plethora of water activities—jet skis, paddle boats, even a giant water slide—and guests often liked to take full advantage.

“Eve, one of the guests will be celebrating her birthday on board, so please do your best to make that a joyful experience for her,” he next spoke to Eve.

“Absolutely, captain.”

“Any questions?”

The three were quiet.

“Ok good, get back to cleaning and be prepared to greet the guests in two hours,” Konstantin said, dismissing them.

Villanelle practically ran out, and Eve followed but not before taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

She could already feel that this was going to be an interesting season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: the first charter guests arrive and the drama begins...
> 
> please visit my twitter @villanellesrobe for a companion guide/thread to this story for those that need visuals


	3. Heart of the Crew

Eve avoided Villanelle for the next two hours while they all finished cleaning and getting the boat ready for the guests. She knew she couldn’t avoid her forever but for the time being it was the only way to keep from yelling at the woman on their first day on board.

She had never experienced such an immediate reaction to another person before. While Eve prided herself on working well with pretty much everyone, Villanelle’s inability to mesh was starting to grate on her.

Why couldn’t Villanelle be a deck hand, that way they’d barely have to interact? Instead, because she was the chef, a major part of Eve’s job was going to be working with her to coordinate meals for the guests.

Speaking of, the provisions had arrived and Eve watched from the deck as Villanelle sifted through the boxes of food before carrying them onto the boat. She had rolled up the sleeves of her chef jacket to show off toned, tanned forearms and Eve tried not to stare.

She really, really tried.

Villanelle may be insufferable, but Elena had a point about her appearance.

“Do you want to help me bring the provisions in or would you rather just watch?”

Eve nearly jumped overboard at the voice, and she turned to find that Villanelle had slipped onto the deck behind her while Eve had been busy daydreaming.

Eve pushed off the railing of the deck with a huff.

“I have other things to do.”

“Apparently not,” Villanelle shot back, a smirk back on her face.

“We need to plan the first meal for today. What were you thinking?” Eve asked, trying her best to ignore the jab and just fucking _mesh._

“Who wants to know?” Villanelle responded, twirling back around and heading into the boat.

Eve followed her down into the galley, where Kenny was unloading the last of the provisions. He smiled awkwardly at them before exiting.

“ _I_ want to know. Your chief stew.”

Villanelle hummed as she put away the food.

“Pulling rank already, Eve?”

“If that’s what it takes to find out what you’re planning to serve for lunch, then yes Villanelle, I am pulling rank.”

Villanelle pursed her lips and tapped her nails on the counter, before finally relenting.

“I will serve a roasted cauliflower, chickpea and arugula salad for lunch, then the local grouper with a balsamic brown butter sauce for dinner.”

She grabbed a rag to wet it and then started wiping down the stovetop, apparently done with the conversation.

“And what about for the vegetarians?”

“Didn’t you read the preference sheet fully, Chief Stew Eve? They are _pescatarians_.”

Eve fumed silently.

“Okay, that’s all that I-“

“And then tomorrow we will try a beach lunch with regular and veggie burgers, and for dinner, garlic butter grilled steak and shrimp. Since the primary guests _specifically_ listed that they wanted a steak dinner on their preference sheet.”

She flipped the rag onto her shoulder, crossing her arms across her chest.

“And shrimp pasta for the others. I have my job covered, Eve. Do you?”

Eve narrowed her eyes at her, suddenly thankful that she might be able to get away with murder on international waters.

“All crew to main deck aft for guest arrival, please,” Konstantin called over their radios, interrupting the tense moment.

Villanelle put the rag in the sink and brushed by Eve towards the deck, slightly knocking her shoulder into Eve’s as she did so.

Eve waited for an extra moment in the galley, gnawing on her lip before following behind her.

* * *

The crew lined up along the deck, headed by Konstantin, then Kenny, Eve, Elena and Geraldine, followed by Villanelle and the rest of the deckhands and boat engineers after them.

They watched as the four guests approached the boat. It was unfortunately typical for yacht guests to be rich, pretentious and overall rude to the crew, but the people coming on didn’t seem like the socialites they were used to.

They made their way down the line of the crew as everyone made their introductions and Eve watched in shock as she witnessed a sudden change in Villanelle as she greeted the guests. It was like a different person. She had a bright smile on her face as she shook each of their hands, even letting out a vivacious laugh after one guest said a joke—and from what Eve could hear, the joke was not that great.

However, as soon as the guests turned their back, Eve observed as the smile quickly dropped from her face and she clenched her fists at her sides.

As long as Villanelle could reign in the attitude for the guests, maybe Eve wouldn’t have too much to worry about.

* * *

The rest of the first day goes swimmingly, as Villanelle prepared the lunch as promised, which was met by rave reviews from the guests.

Eve keeps them happy as well, refilling their glasses before they could ask and sending Elena and Geraldine down to the cabins to unpack their luggage for them.

She clears the table as the guests go to change in their swimwear and feels the boat lurch as Konstantin and the deck crew work to disembark from the dock.

“They seem nice,” Elena comments as she returns to help Eve with the clearing. “Quite pleased our first guests aren’t some rich assholes. Really sets a tone.”

“Yeah, agreed.”

“Although one of the couples _did_ have a dildo stashed in their suitcase.”

Eve threw a napkin at her in mock affront.

“Elena, what have I told you about going through the pockets.”

“Not to,” she responded innocently.

Eve rolled her eyes and the pair made their way to the galley where Villanelle had her pods back in her ears and was getting her ingredients ready for dinner. As usual, her walkie was sitting on its side on the counter.

Eve was almost tempted to take it and clip it to Villanelle herself, but knew it would only cause more trouble between them, so she decided to just let it be for now.

Eve and Elena worked to clean the dishes from lunch while Geraldine monitored the guests as they tried out the water toys by the swim deck. They had just anchored somewhere off the coast of Greece and Eve could see from the galley window as the guests sped by on some jet skis.

“Villanelle,” Konstantin’s voice boomed as he entered the galley.

Eve and Elena both turned in surprise at his entrance and Villanelle took the pods out of her ears immediately.

“I have been calling you on your radio—did you not hear?”

_Finally_ , Eve thought to herself. Maybe a proper scolding would put Villanelle in her place.

But Villanelle simply pouted and dragged her feet over to the counter, grabbing the walkie and hooking it on.

“You are worse than Eve,” she complained, turning back to begin seasoning the fish.

Eve watched, amazed, as Konstantin came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder—almost _affectionately_ —and whispered something in her ear.

Villanelle stopped working to nod silently while he spoke, and Konstantin gave a final few pats to her shoulder and then left the galley.

“Any other person would be scrubbing the deck right now for not answering their radio, _twice_ ,” Eve said later as she and Elena were in the laundry room putting a few loads of towels in.

“I know, babe.”

“Didn’t she get kicked off her last boat? Shouldn’t she _already_ be on thin ice?” Eve continued, throwing in the towels with more force than was necessary.

“I mean, it’s pretty clear she knows the captain so maybe he helped her get out of it?”

“Great, so she already has a shitty attitude and now she’s immune to getting in trouble for it.”

Elena walked up to her and put a hand on each of her shoulders.

“Eve, I know it must be killing you that you aren’t immediately getting along, but have you tried just talking to her? Laying out your concerns and just trying to gauge where she’s at? If the captain won’t do it, you’re the next best thing.”

Eve knew Elena had a point. Konstantin obviously had some sort of soft spot when it came to Villanelle, so it would be up to Eve to keep her in line throughout the season.

“I hate having to be the serious and stern chief stew,” Eve whined.

“We’ll all be better for it,” Elena replied. “Now let’s go make sure the guests haven’t overwhelmed Geraldine.”

* * *

The rest of the charter was a success and would hopefully set a precedent of what to expect for the remainder of the season.

Eve and Villanelle were purely business in the galley, with Eve just asking her how best to introduce each dish to the guests and for the expected meal times. The interactions in their shared cabin were also kept to a minimum, and most of the time Villanelle was already asleep by the time Eve came in.

The guests left an extremely nice tip that equated to about $1,300 for each crew member, which made for a happy team.

“Please flip the boat for the next charter and then you are free to do as you please tonight,” Konstantin concluded the tip meeting.

The crew worked diligently over the next few hours to clean the boat in order to escape to shore and to a bar for the night before it was time to start preparing for the next charter.

They all loaded into the tender at around nine, some of them already a few sheets to the wind.

Villanelle sat stoically towards the back of the tender, staring straightforward as Hugo talked her ear off about something or other. She was grasping a glass of champagne but was only taking small sips every now and then.

“She _is_ fucking fit,” Elena commented from her perch next to Kenny, who was steering the tender. “Don’t you think, Kenny?”

“Uh—um, I…ye—“ he stammered as Elena laughed.

Eve stood next to them and glanced back at Villanelle and saw that she was now speaking fast and angrily at Hugo, who seemed to be shrinking in his seat. He quickly escaped and made his way toward Eve and Elena.

“So the chef is a babe, I think I might have a chance,” he said smugly as he approached them.

* * *

By the time they made it back to the boat later that night, mostly everyone was contentedly drunk.

Eve and Elena spent a majority of their time dancing and downing drinks on the dance floor, with Kenny hovering awkwardly around them. Hugo was on the prowl most of the night, while Geraldine sat at the bar quietly sipping her drink and scribbling notes in her journal.

Greg had stayed behind on the boat that night, whereas Villanelle disappeared into the bar once they got there and wasn’t seen again until they made their way back to the tender to return to the Calypso.

Hugo swore up and down that he had witnessed her hooking up with another woman by the bathrooms, but Eve and Elena chalked it up to wishful thinking.

When Eve entered their cabin to turn in for the night, Villanelle was on the top bunk and still awake, reading something on her phone. Eve went into her drawers to pull out some pajamas, the silence in the room a bit tense and awkward.

She hopped into the tiny bathroom to change, brush her teeth and wash her face before returning to the room and climbing into the bottom bunk. She laid on her back and crossed her fingers together on top of her stomach, thinking.

She shot back up and stood facing Villanelle, the liquid courage suddenly striking her.

“Villanelle.”

The woman in question slowly put her phone down and raised an eyebrow, looking over at her.

“Eve.”

“I know we—uh, I know that we didn’t really get off to the best start, but I _want_ to be able to work with you,” Eve mustered on, stumbling a bit over her words.

So much for taking Elena’s advice and laying everything out _coherently._ This probably would have gone much better sober.

But she swore she saw Villanelle display a small smile, before she was back to being a blank slate. 

“I _need_ to be able to work with you,” Eve continued. “As chief stew and the chef, our relationship is like…it’s like the heart of the crew. Without us…the crew…dies,” she finished weakly, wanting to smack herself.

“I agree,” Villanelle said simply.

“You agree?” Eve responded, surprised.

“I agree,” Villanelle repeated. “I want us to work well together too.”

“Okay, that’s good. Thank you for your time.”

She quickly climbed back into bed and turned on her side, closing her eyes tight and hoping that actually went as well as she thought and wasn’t just some drunk stammering in reality.

“Good night, Eve,” she heard from above.

Eve smiled at the words. Maybe they could just forget their initial rough patch and start anew for the next charter.

“’Night, Villanelle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you think this will actually go well for them?


	4. Simpatico

When Eve awoke the next morning, Villanelle’s bed was already empty and made, which she was partially grateful for. It was always a plus to avoid any awkward morning confrontations after a drunken rant.

She remembered most of the prior night’s brief conversation, especially the part where Villanelle agreed to work together—something that put an extra pep in Eve’s step as she began her day.

Yacht chefs were always going to be difficult, that was just a fact. Eve once worked with a chef who refused to speak with her anywhere but the galley, and even there he kept things concise. He wasn’t necessarily trying to be a dick, he was just obeying his own code of professionalism that just…came off as being a dick. He also wasn’t that great of a chef, so that led to problems of a different kind.

Luckily, Villanelle had proven to be a pretty fantastic chef and would hopefully now have a fantastic attitude to pair.

Eve mused on her thoughts further as she took a quick shower and then met Elena and Geraldine in the guest quarters to begin turndowns.

“So I kind of confronted Villanelle last night,” Eve told Elena as they billowed a freshly-washed comforter over the master bed.

Geraldine was puttering about in the bathroom, folding towels and refilling the shampoo and conditioner bottles. While she was quiet and just a tad weird, she was a diligent worker.

“Finally,” Elena replied, tucking in the bottom of the comforter and then moving to tuck in the sides while Eve did the same on the other side. “And how did it go?”

“It actually went pretty well,” Eve admitted. “I was tipsy as all hell, but she was receptive. She said she just wants us to work well together.”

Elena placed her hands on her hips, smiling brightly. “See?”

Eve rolled her eyes and fluffed a few pillows.

“Yeah, well, let’s see how this charter actually goes before you start gloating about ‘I told you so.’”

“I will begin gloating now, thank you very much.”

“How are things going with Kenny by the way?”

Elena stands straight, tapping a finger against her chin thoughtfully.

“You know that whole phrase ‘don’t shit where you eat?’” she asks. “I’m finding it quite beneficial, actually.”

* * *

After finishing up the turndowns, Eve heads to the bridge for a preference sheet meeting with Konstantin, Kenny and Villanelle. She stops by the galley first to make sure Villanelle heard the call over the radio, but finds it empty—a good sign.

An even better sign is that Villanelle is already sitting with Kenny and Konstantin in the bridge when Eve arrives.

“Okay everyone, new guests arrive tomorrow at noon. A bit of a larger group this time—six people,” Konstantin advises, handing each of them a packet of papers detailing the guests.

“Food wise, they are pretty easy. But—” he wags his finger in Villanelle’s direction. “They are very, very strict about timing.”

Eve can feel Villanelle’s eye roll before she even sees it.

“So I need you,” Konstantin now turns to Eve. “To keep everything on pace in the galley. Because sometimes Villanelle has troubles with timing.”

She can hear Villanelle grumble something angrily under her breath, which both Eve and Konstantin ignore.

“Will do, Cap,” Eve assures him.

She doesn’t think it would be too difficult to get Villanelle to plate on time. The first charter, sure, there were a couple meals that came out maybe ten or fifteen minutes late. But that was workable, especially now that she had Villanelle’s compliance, which is ultimately worth more than her defiance.

She half listens as Konstantin tells Kenny that the guests requested that all of the available water toys be at their disposal, and instead tries to act like she can’t feel Villanelle staring directly at her.

She’s been staring at her practically the entire meeting, much to Eve’s chagrin.

She wasn’t sure if she just happened to be the most interesting thing to look at, if Villanelle was just distracted, or if it was something else—but she _could_ tell that the girl was getting a sense of enjoyment from seeing Eve squirm, as she seemed to have a permanent smirk planted on her lips.

“Did you get that, Eve?” Konstantin suddenly asked, and now _everyone_ was staring at her.

She stuttered momentarily before nodding, even though she definitely did _not_ get that.

“Great, you’re all dismissed. Villanelle, get your provision order in soon.”

She gave Konstantin a mocking salute before disappearing downstairs, and Eve followed behind her into the galley.

“Did you want to start thinking about meals?” Eve asked as she stood across the counter from Villanelle, who was writing down her list for the provision order.

“I’ve already been thinking,” Villanelle responded, still looking down and scribbling notes.

“And?”

“What’s your favorite meal?”

Eve raised an eyebrow in question, but Villanelle was still focused on the order.

“We’re talking about the guests.”

Villanelle looked up.

“Are we? You didn’t say. I thought we were talking about meals.”

Eve counted to three in her head. _Mesh._

“What meals are you planning to serve the guests?”

“Oh,” Villanelle breathed. “But what meal would I serve you? For, let’s just say, _as an example_ , a date?”

Eve counted to ten this time.

“What are you talking about?”

Villanelle laughed lightly, capping her pen and sliding it behind her ear. “All hypotheticals, of course. I’m just curious.”

“Hypothetically,” Eve started. “There would be no date because we are working on a charter.”

“So you’re saying it could happen off charter?” Villanelle pushed, but finally relented when Eve looked like she was about to have steam come out her ears. “Here.”

She slid over what she had been writing down, which was a list of her needed food and supplies, plus a detailed explanation of the meals she was planning to serve over the course of the three days.

Eve read over it and saw nothing to pick at.

“Perfect.”

“Konstantin may think he needs you to babysit me, but you do not need to babysit me,” Villanelle said seriously, sliding the paper back towards herself. “He thinks I am a child.”

“I promise you, I just want to work together to make this a great charter and a great tip. And if that means plating on time, that’s something we will both work at. Together.”

Villanelle scrutinized her for a moment but eventually nodded.

“Good.”

And a moment later, she added playfully, “Now get out of my galley,”

* * *

By the time Konstantin called the crew to meet on the main deck aft the next afternoon to greet the new guests, Eve observed that Villanelle seemed to be in a good mood. Not only did she have her walkie attached to her hip, but she also managed to somehow get away with wearing expensive looking patterned chinos to pair with her white chef jacket.

Which was _definitely_ against dress code.

But Eve had a feeling Konstantin had let that go, and Eve would too, as she was quickly coming to realize that keeping Villanelle happy meant that things generally went well.

If this was her way to _mesh,_ so be it.

As they all watch the guest approach the boat, Eve can already tell they are more refined and upscale than their last. It’s evident in their ridiculously expensive clothing, but even more so by the jewelry. Diamond bracelets, gold rings, pearl necklaces. Certainly not Eve’s personal taste, but she could tell they were costly.

They seemed to be nice enough, but there was also a polite stiffness with each handshake that denoted they were above them—which, granted, they technically were.

They kept up the polite stiffness through lunch, which was thankfully perfectly on time by Villanelle, and then retreated to their rooms for a quick nap while Konstantin departed port and headed to an anchoring spot in calm waters.

“You never answered my question, by the way,” Eve heard from behind her as she washed dishes in the galley.

Villanelle was leaning her back against the counter, arms crossed, watching Eve.

Eve finished the last bowl, placing it carefully in the drying rack, and wiped her hands on a towel before turning.

“What question?”

“What’s your favorite meal?”

Eve knew answering this question could have consequences, and she had no idea what could result from giving Villanelle any personal information.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” she challenged.

Villanelle shrugged innocently.

“I’m partial to bulgogi,” Eve relented.

Villanelle stood to her full height, pulling away from the counter. “Hmm. Ok. Thank you.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah?” Villanelle replied. “Don’t you think that is a fair question from a chef?”

“Sure, but it’s like there’s a question _behind_ that question.”

“I just want to know more about you, Eve. You are very…” Villanelle chewed on her lip in thought. “Mysterious.”

“Ha!” Elena laughed out loud as she entered the kitchen, catching the tail end of their conversation. “Eve? Mysterious? You’ve got to be joking, mate.”

The woman in question pushed her elbow harshly into Elena’s side as she came to stand next to her and help dry the dishes. While it was true, Eve was certainly not mysterious in any sense of the word, she had to keep her street cred in some fashion.

“I mean, _I’m_ joking,” Elena corrected herself. “Eve can be quite mysterious, that one.”

Villanelle looked between them confusedly before turning back to the galley.

“Thanks a lot,” Eve whispered.

“Sorry babe, but it was funny.” She chuckled to herself. “Eve. Mysterious.”

Eve flicked some sudsy water at her before finishing the rest of the dishes.

* * *

Things were going well this charter.

Until they weren’t.

* * *

It began with dinner.

The starters went out no problem, but the mains were another story.

They were running about ten minutes late, and it was mostly because Villanelle was trying to perfect the plating. She swiped spoon after spoon across plates, throwing some in the sink when she wasn’t happy with the way the sauce looked.

Eve stood and watched while also keeping an eye on the clock.

“Villanelle…” she warned.

“Shh, Eve. I’ve got it,” she assured, finally finishing the last plate and carefully placing the grilled fish on top of a pile of saffron risotto. “Go.”

Eve and Elena swooped in and took the plates, almost running up the stairs to the guests—who didn’t look too happy when they got there.

One of the guests tapped his wristwatch, tutting. “A fifteen minute wait on a yacht?”

Eve bit her tongue and apologized before disappearing back to the galley, where Villanelle was starting prep for dessert.

“I thought we talked about timing,” Eve stated.

“We did,” Villanelle said simply, piping some cream into sugar powder-dusted cream puffs.

“So what happened? Because the guests are about to chew my head off. I thought Konstantin's instructions were pretty clear."

Villanelle shrugged, but she glowered at the words.

“Would you rather we be late or imperfect?”

“The plates weren’t ‘imperfect,’ you’re just a perfectionist,” Eve shot back.

Elena snorted from where she was munching on a throwaway cream puff.

Villanelle and Eve both turned to glare at her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said before going up to check on the guests.

“They’re not going to notice how the sauce looks under the fish, Villanelle. We can’t be spending ten, fifteen minutes on that.”

“But _I_ will notice.”

“And that matters?”

“That’s all that matters,” Villanelle replied shortly, essentially ending the conversation.

Eve rolled her eyes, but let it go for now—they still had to serve dessert, after all.

The rest of the meal went fine but Villanelle remained brusque for the remainder of the night, retiring to bed without a word once the guests left the table.

* * *

Eve was working the late shift, and of course the guests were asking for chocolate chip cookies at 1 a.m.

She responded “certainly” with a smile, but it was more like “fuck, fuck, fuck” with every step down to the galley. She searched the cabinets and the pantry but unfortunately there were no easy break-and-bake cookie options.

So that left the _only_ option—waking Villanelle to bake cookies. At one o’clock in the morning.

The woman’s snores filled the room when Eve quietly stepped in. She shut her eyes tightly before getting the nerve to reach up and shake her shoulder.

Despite the appearance of being a heavy sleeper, she woke up almost immediately.

“What?” she grumbled, her accent thicker with sleep.

“I’m sorry. The guests want cookies.”

“What time is it?”

“Quarter after one.”

“No,” she replied, turning her back to Eve and flipping the duvet over her head.

_Count to three, Eve…_

Whereas at first she was apologetic, now Eve was annoyed.

“Please, Villanelle.”

Silence.

“ _Villanelle_.”

There were no resuming snores, but the woman still wouldn’t audibly reply.

“Please do not make me wake the captain over this.”

Villanelle turned back over quickly at those words, glaring down at Eve.

“Really?”

“Really. If I have to.”

Eve stepped back as Villanelle practically jumped out of the top bunk, looking away as the woman angrily pulled on pants and trying to ignore the exposed skin.

She stepped into the hallway until Villanelle was done, and she stepped out shortly after, hair brushed back into a tight pony. She shouldered past Eve stonily.

“I told you not to treat me like a child, Eve,” she snipped. “It appears you do not listen to instructions either.”

Eve watched as she thundered up the steps to the galley.

So much for working well together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i know. this took awhile. work is busy, i'm moving, etc. but i'll do my best not to take so long on chapter 5.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the product of a Below Deck binge sesh. I don't have any sort of posting schedule at the moment, so just bear with me as I get going with this story. Follow me on Twitter @villanellesrobe for updates/general debauchery.


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